A/N: Hope you're enjoying it so far. This chapter is a bit more fun. Oh, in case you're wondering, the entire thing is written, so there won't be a huge wait in between chapters, and there are seven chapters. Just in case you were in suspense. :)

Part Two

Catherine stepped inside Grissom's office. "You look tired."

"Thanks," he responded listlessly.

"Grissom, it's been a week. Cases are piling up."

"Mm." He held up a crime scene photo of a bedside table to the light. "Don't most people have a phone on their nightstands?"

"If they're workaholics. Why? Did you find a phone?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "No."

"Grissom-"

"I know, I know. The sheriff is telling me to write it off as a domestic abuse case and move on to something else, but…"

"The writing?"

Grissom nodded. "This isn't just about passion. There's something…taunting. I don't know. It's too staged."

Before Catherine could respond, Brass poked his head in the door. "Gil. There's a 419 in the same neighborhood. I think it's our guy. Same M.O., similar vics, and there's more cryptic writing on the bedsheets."

"Get Sara and Greg," Grissom said, grabbing his kit. "Our domestic abuse case just turned into a serial."

OOO

Grissom pursed his lips slightly as he leaned over to read the writing on the sheet. "Diana S. Larsen."

Greg lifted his head up from dusting the end table. "This woman's name is Juliet Markus." He paused. "Maybe Diana S. Larsen is his next victim."

Sara entered the room. "Brass ran the name, and there are two Diana Larsens in Nevada. One is a 60-year-old retired math teacher from Reno, and the other is a seven-year-old girl from Spring Creek. And neither of them has the middle initial 'S.'"

"What about California? Arizona? Utah?"

"We checked 100 miles in every direction. There is no Diana S. Larsen."

Greg stood up to let David take a liver temperature. "Maybe it's her maiden name. That could be why our guy is so pissed. He wanted to be the one to marry her."

"It's a good theory, Greg, but keep dusting."

Sara bent over to get her supplies. "Do you want me to do a rape kit?"

Grissom snapped off his gloves in frustration. "Sure. Let's keep poking at the lack of evidence."

"You're the one that says there's always a clue," Sara retorted.

"Well, it's been a week, and I haven't found it. And this guy is going to kill again."

OOO

"You look rested," Sara commented with a hint of cheer.

Grissom managed a weak smile and sat down in his chair. "I suppose. It seems that two days without sleep is bad for business. Did I miss anything?"

Catherine entered his office, brandishing a file folder. "Yup. Nick and Warrick solved another murder, and I am heading home."

"The high school teacher?" Sara interjected. "Who did it?"

"Angry parent," she replied. "Didn't want her son's chemistry grade to ruin his chances of getting into college."

Sara let out a low whistle.

Nick poked his head in. "Evening, Griss. Find your lunatic yet?"

Grissom sighed. "No, Ecklie has the day off."

Sara grinned. "You guys want to help us talk this case out?"

"I don't know," Nick responded warily. "If Grissom hasn't figured it out yet…"

Grissom shot him a dangerous look. "Don't assume anything, Nicky. I have theories. I just need something to connect them."

Catherine leaned against Grissom's shelves and sighed. "But what do you have? Two cryptic and unrelated messages etched on a mattress?"

Sara slumped her shoulders. "More or less. We have rape with no DNA, strangulation with no prints, and no apparent entry or exit of the assailant. And as for these messages-"

"Of course!"

Everyone froze as Grissom stood up out of his chair. "They're anagrams! 'Diana S. Larsen!' You rearrange the letters, it spells 'DNA is Arsenal.' I can't believe I missed that."

Raising an eyebrow, Catherine looked over at Grissom. "You can just do anagrams in your head?"

"Well, those two aren't really elaborate. Most of the letters are in the same order, but, yeah. I can generally do anagrams in my head. The question is-"

"Do my name."

"Catherine-"

"Yeah!" said Nick excitedly. "Do all of our names. Come on, your shift hasn't even officially started yet."

Grissom rolled his eyes and sat back down. "All right, all right. Let's see…Catherine Willows..."

Warrick walked into the office, his arms folded. "What's going on?"

"Shh, Warrick," Nick cautioned. "Grissom can do anagrams in his head. He's thinking."

"Orwellian Witches."

Catherine's eyes widened. "You're joking."

Grissom turned to Nick. "Do you mind if I use 'Nicholas?'"

"Knock yourself out, Griss."

He put a finger over his lips pensively. "So Into Shackles."

Warrick smirked and nodded his approval. "Nice. Very nice. What about me?"

"See, the thing is, Warrick, your name has a lot of consonants and only three vowels. I may have to get back to you on that." He paused. "You can make the word 'rainbow,' though."

"Splendid," Warrick sighed. "I'm going to go find Greg-"

"Renders Gags," Grissom interrupted.

"Right. Him. I'll catch you guys later"

As Warrick left the office, Grissom turned to Sara. "Now, yours has enough vowels, but it's just…short. What's your middle name?"

Sara paused a moment in deliberation. Finally, she spoke. "Ann."

Grissom leaned back in his chair to think. "Sara Ann Sidle. Hmmmm."

After a few moments of silence, Grissom's eyes grew wide. He leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk. Sara's eyes met his, and the mood of the room was quickly changed.

"DNA is arsenal."

OOO